Not A Day Goes By
by Stephanie Elisabeth Neal
Summary: AO Fic. Darker than my others which are pretty much comedies. My attempt to fix my heartache by trying to fix theirs. Alternates between A/O POVs. Song by Lonestar. Dedicated to Liyah for helping me heal and for the beta.
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in Smalltown, USA, she sat by her window staring up at the night sky. She saw the stars, something she could never do when she lived in the city. She counted them, tracing a path with her eyes from one to the other, knowing that she has wished on every one.

She loved the night sky, but she'd give up all the stars in her world if only she could see her love again. Her thoughts lingered there every time she saw a shooting star. The flash of light, the slight twinkle, reminded her of the shimmer she saw in those deep, dark chocolate pools she used to get lost in. Those eyes…those eyes that saw into her soul and breathed life into her heart.

Olivia's eyes. She could still remember every detail of those eyes. She could still recall every nuance of her face. She could still feel every texture, every curve of her toned, lithe, sensual form. Her memories were all she had and she cherished them with vigor.

She wasn't allowed to take anything with her when she was whisked away into witness protection, so she took a picture to carry in her heart. She played the memories of a different life, every night in her mind. Partly out of fear that she's forget even the most minute of details, and partly out of necessity. Those memories that she carried with her served to sustain her soul. The memories they made a lifetime ago, kept her warm on the dark and lonely nights.

Daylight saw a very different side of her. She was put together, composed, well-poised, and the epitome of a strong female. The sunlight brought day, which brought a small amount of human interaction, which she greeted gracefully. You could take away her name, but you could never take away what it meant to be a Cabot. She was remarkable. No one who looked at her would ever be able to speculate that she was merely a shell. That she was more or less dead inside. The mask, the façade, was unyielding.

But it was a façade that fell when the sun fled the sky. The cold of night, the darkness, served to exponentially enhance the cold in her heart, the darkness in her soul. As night set in, so did the loneliness. The devastating loneliness. The same loneliness that had caused her to cry herself to sleep night after night until she had run out of tears.

She didn't cry for herself, though. She cried for Olivia. Her dear, sweet Olivia. The pain she saw in Olivia's eyes that night inflicted more pain than any bullet ever could. A tear rolled down her cheek as she thought of how Olivia must be doing. _Your funeral's tomorrow._ Olivia's words made her heartache. But it was the unspoken that made her heart break. _I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you._ _I'm so sorry._ She saw these words in Olivia's eyes. She saw the sadness and the regret. She saw raw pain that was ripping Olivia apart. And so she cried. She mourned their loss. The loss of the life they wanted together, that they had planned together. She cried hoping her tears would wash away a small bit of the pain and allow her even the remotest bit of relief.

With time, she thought the pain would subside. She thought it would get easier to be someone else for awhile. Like playing a game. As if Shakespeare were right and all of life was a stage and she was merely an actor. But it didn't. It never got any easier. Not even a little. The fear never left her. The weight of the loss never left her. Every new person she 'played' came with a different story, a different history. And none of them included a beautiful detective with a heart of gold. And so she cursed each role she played. Each new life, new woman, new history, was more infuriating than the last. None of them had the love of her life ripped away. None of these roles held a remnant of true life. None of them knew her pain and so they all forced her to hide her pain. But, never a day went by that she didn't think of her dear sweet Olivia.

Looking up into the night sky with tear-filled eyes, she whispered…_I love you, Liv. Not a day goes by…_

_Got a picture of you, I carry in my heart  
Close my eyes to see it, when the night gets dark  
Got a memory of you, I carry in my soul  
Wrap it close around me, when the world gets cold_

If you asked me how I'm doing, I'd say just fine  
But the truth is, baby, if you could read my mind

_Not a day goes by  
That I don't think of you  
After all this time  
You're still with me it's true  
Somehow you remain  
Locked so deep inside  
That baby, baby, oh, baby  
Not a day goes by _


	2. Chapter 2

In a darkened apartment in midtown Manhattan, she lay in her couch, staring up at the ceiling. The only light that permeated the room was from the street lamp outside. Aside from the occasional blink, she was motionless, staring off into darkness. She felt empty. She clutched the phone to her chest as if it were her lifeline.

The nights used to bring solace. An escape from the horrors she faced each day. Nights used to be spent in adoring arms. In a warm embrace. In comfortable familiarity. In a tender caress. Simply in love. Now, nights brought darkness and nothing else. No relief. No solace. No shelter. No rest. Nothing. The daylight illuminated the depraved nature of life, and the night revealed the desolate nature of her own life.

The apartment she was in used to be a home. It was never a home before _her._ Before Alex. And now, without Alex, the space felt bleak and depressing. It was as if even the walls could feel her absence. This structure, these fours walls, no longer equaled a home. It was a building. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like its inhabitant, a shell of her former self. Nothing more, nothing less. She walked around with empty eyes. It seemed fitting considering her empty heart.

She had lost everything. That was the plain and simple truth. Alex was everything to her and she had lost her. She lost her to witness protection. Where was she now? Was she alright? Was she happy? Were they keeping her safe? Her heart broke a little more when she remembered Alex's declaration after the first time they had fallen asleep wrapped up in each other. _I've never felt as safe as I do in your arms._

But it was all ripped away. _Alex?_ That night was constantly replaying in her mind._I'm so sorry about all of this._ It had been etched into her psyche. _How long?_ The words were all she could muster. Her heart was in her throat. She felt a strange mixture of joy and misery. Alex was alive! Her love was standing right in front of her! Her love was leaving? NO! It was like she was losing her all over again. _Until Velez is extradited or otherwise dealt with._ The words came as no consolation. It sounded like a business transaction. It wasn't business. It was her life God damn it! Alex's shrug told her all she needed to know. She had never seen the beautiful blond so crestfallen before. Alex was blaming herself. But this wasn't her fault. Alex had nothing to be sorry for. It was Olivia's fault and Olivia knew it.

She had never been angrier with herself. She should have done more. She should've convinced Alex to back off the case. She should've insisted on a detail. She should've shielded her. She should've taken the bullet. She faced that kind of thing everyday. Alex, her innocent angel, never had to stare down the barrel of a gun, and that's the way it should be. Alex was, for all intents and purposes, a civilian. Olivia was a decorated NYPD detective. All her years of training and she failed to 'protect and serve'. She failed Alex.

She cursed whatever higher entity may have been listening. She cursed the feds for failing to do their jobs. She cursed the US Marshals for taking Alex away into protective custody. She was the one who should be protecting Alex. That's how it should've been. But she couldn't. She couldn't do her duty. Not her duty as a police officer, but the responsibility of someone who had pledged themselves and their life to another. But she had failed at both. She couldn't save her ADA and she couldn't save the love of her life.

At work, she was nothing short of professional. She got the job done, no one could question her ability. But her motivation, her formerly unwavering determination, had been replaced by a drive fueled by anger. She seemed fine to most people who encountered the seasoned detective. But she was far from it. The cold exterior she exuded wasn't part of the job. It wasn't professionalism. It wasn't even that she had been hardened by the years and the horrors she had seen. The cold was an extension of the cold she felt in her soul. It consumed her heart, and it was making its way outward.

Each day came and went and she became more and more withdrawn. With each passing of the sun, the wall around her heart hardened a little more. Every sunrise reminded her that 'life' went on. But this wasn't living, this was merely existing. Every sunset made her soul long for the nights when she used to feel fulfilled.

And so she lay there, in the dark, clutching the phone. Willing it to ring. Willing it to be Alex. Willing all of this to be a nightmare. For it not to be true. She'd give anything just to hear Alex's voice. Just to hear the way her name fell of those lips. She'd give anything just to have one stolen moment. Just to tell Alex it would all be okay. That this was a really bad dream and it would be over soon. She willed it to ring just as she had done countless times before. Day after day. Night after night. And as she drifted off into yet another night of fitful sleep, a whisper left her lips just as it had before, time and time again..._I love you, Lex. Not a day goes by…_

_I still wait for the phone in the middle of the night  
Thinking you might call me if your dreams don't turn out right  
And it still amazes me that I lie here in the dark  
Wishin' you were next to me with your head against my heart_

_If you asked me how I'm doing, I'd say just fine  
But the truth is, baby, if you could read my mind_

_Not a day goes by  
That I don't think of you  
After all this time  
You're still with me it's true  
Somehow you remain  
Locked so deep inside  
That baby, baby, oh, baby  
Not a day goes by_


	3. Chapter 3

The sounds of the thundering storm outside found their way into her already tumultuous dreams. She awoke with a start at the violent clap of the rolling thunder. Instinctually, she reached out towards the other side of the bed. Feeling nothing but the cold sheets, the temporary relief that sleep had offered was quickly banished. As reality set in, so did the ache in her chest.

If not for the pain, she would forget she was even 'alive'. The loneliness clawed at her heavily bruised heart resulting in the painful clenching in her chest. Curling around one of her pillows, she allowed herself a few moments of self-pity as the sobs wracked her body. Burying her face in the pillow, she muffled her cries of grief in a futile attempt to gain some sort of control.

Unable to quell the pain, she rolled onto her back, clutched the pillow to her chest, and allowed the tears to fall. She thought she had run out of tears long ago, but the supply seemed limitless. But considering her pain knew no bounds, why should her tears?

Mere moments soon turned to minutes, and soon an hour had passed. Not that it mattered. Time had no real measurement when every moment contained immeasurable pain. So time meant nothing. Pain consumed everything. The irony was not lost on her even in her distraught state. How something as intangible as emptiness could consume anything, let alone everything. It was a phenomenon she would never be able to explain. But that's exactly what her existence was. It was nothing It had been consumed. Life didn't used to be this way. But then again, that was when it was a real life, not this pathetic, choreographed mockery.

Lifting her head off of her tear soaked pillow, she tossed the other pillow aside and flung back the sheets. For survivial's sake, it was necessary to leave the now all-too-big bed. She needed to not be stationary. She needed to move. She needed the activity to remind her that she was capable of deciding something for herself, on her own. No. That wasn't exactly it. She was fully capable. She was never incapable. A Cabot was never incapable. What she needed was a reminder that she did, in fact, still have free will. She needed to remember that she was entitled to it. Technically, free will was now a luxury, but she'd never accept that. She couldn't. That could be weak. That would be giving up. She refused to give up.

She needed her hope. It was the only thing still tying her to the life of Alexandra Cabot. Her determination to not let it go. Just like her memories of Olivia and their life together, she needed her hope to survive. She needed to believe that she would, one day, go home. Return to her life. Return to Olivia. That one day, she would feel safe again. In Olivia's arms.

Her mind lingered on the thoughts of Olivia, as it always did, without fail. Olivia was strong, determined, selfless, and unwavering. She found strength is this. She found strength in Olivia's strength, just as she always had.

Walking over to the window she was situated at earlier that night, she wrapped her arms around herself. Closing her eyes, she imagined that Olivia's arms were wrapped around her instead of her own. Her skin tingled as she fought to absorb every ounce of strength she could from the physical memory. The tears no longer streamed from her crystal blue eyes, but they continued to fall, leaving a trail down her flawless alabaster skin.

Opening her eyes, she was faced with her own reflection in the window. The darkness outside had endowed the glass with a mirror-like quality. Staring herself directly in the eyes, she stated with conviction _I am Alexandra Cabot._ Her face hardened with determination as a small bit of weight on her soul was lightened.

A flash of light caught her eye. A twinkle of a shooting star. Looking up, she once again traced the familiar path amongst the stars. Facing her reflection again, she vowed to herself with fervor that she would return to her life, return to her love. Return to herself. With Olivia's strength the support her, with Olivia's resilience to inspire her, and Olivia's love to guide her, she would find herself again. She promised herself, and she promised Olivia, that this life would lead them back to each other, one day. One day. And just like that, the bruises began to fade. The journey would be a slow one, but this was a start. A small, almost undetectable, smile graced her lips as her tears rolled over them. _Thank you, Olivia Benson. You are always with me. Not a day goes by…_


	4. Chapter 4

Today had been a hard day. Tougher than most. It had culminated in her current state: sitting in the dark with a drink in her hand. The swirling of the liquid in her glass was almost poetically symbolic of the thoughts swirling in her head. She felt guilt. Immense, crippling guilt.

She did something unthinkable today. She had laughed. A genuine laugh. She felt happy. But it was short lived. The guilt set in quickly as the laughter died. What right did she have to feel so happy? Was it okay to feel happy, especially since Alex was gone? Did being happy betray Alex? Did it mean she was letting go? Did it erase any part of what was between them? Did it nullify any part of their love?

She couldn't even remember what it was that drew the smile from her lips and the laughter from her belly. It was just such a relief to finally feel something other than pain, dread, or anger. It was such a release to finally laugh. But it was completely and utterly bittersweet. The small amount of reprieve allotted was juxtaposed with guilt.

She knew that the guilt wasn't exactly rational. Hell…it was an emotion and those were never rational. But it was what it was. She felt guilty. Guilty for laughing. Guilty for feeling something other than misery. Guilty for feeling a smidgen of happiness for a small, immeasurable moment in time. And it made no sense, whatsoever.

She knew Alex would want her to be able to laugh. To feel genuine joy. Because that's what you want for someone you truly love. Because that was exactly what she wanted for Alex.

But she never expected it to come for herself. The day that she felt genuine happiness that she couldn't share with her love – it came right out of the blue. She never expected to feel real happiness again, all the while knowing what real happiness truly was. She knew real happiness because of Alex. She knew real happiness by being with Alex. Alex was her happiness. Now Alex was gone. But happiness was still possible? No! It couldn't be! How could it? How could _she_? She felt as if she has betrayed Alex. Betrayed their love.

She had always been able to keep her emotions in check. She was a natural at it. Growing up with an alcoholic mother, haunted by the memory of a 'father' she never knew, she learned early on how to hide things. She hardly ever showed vulnerability. Anger, yes. That particular emotion was one of the few she had trouble with. She had the ability to be the most patient woman, especially with children. But she could also be hard as nails and quick to anger, especially with perps. It was something that bothered her. The anger in her. She had always wondered if that was something her father gave her when he contributed to her genetic make-up. If that was what particular emotions stemmed from, then she didn't want any part of them that was any part of him.

And so she fought to hide _all_ her emotions. That was the only way she could hide any of them. But there, in the deafening silence, in the darkness of her living room, she couldn't fight it anymore. The massive lump in her throat could not be swallowed. The hot, angry tears could not be blinked back. The immense pain could not be ignored. She was overcome.

The first time she was unable to hold back the tears was the night that fate had been horribly cruel. It was the night the shots rang out. It was the same night that she was told that the doctors did all they could, but that it was too late. The bullet had pierced Alex's shoulder, but it might as well have pierced straight through Olivia's heart. It would have achieved the same effect. The indescribable emotional pain she felt was so physically unbearable it was crippling. That bullet didn't just cut through skin and bone. It shattered lives.

The second time the tears fell was the night that the federal agents had summoned her. The night they had so 'graciously' reunited the two lovers only to rip them apart once again. She hadn't managed to blink back the tears that night. Those tears. They were tears of joy that Alex was alive. They were tears of anguish because Alex was still lost. They were tears of anger, frustration, resignation, and sorrow all-in-one.

But this night, the weight upon her was suffocating. The pain, the anger, the guilt, they all served to crushed her already mangled heart even more. On this dark, cold, and lonely night, only made different by the events of the day, the remorse claimed her just as the heartache had consumed her. These torrents of emotion, mixed with the burning of the alcohol in her drink, overcame her. The bittersweet memories replayed in her mind. And, for the third time since she had lost Alex, she lost control and the tears fell. _I'm so sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to. I miss you so much. Not a day goes by...  
_


	5. Chapter 5

On the urging of the agents who were assigned to her, she sat at a local park reading a book. She needed to live a 'normal' life, and that meant not cooping herself up in her house. So she decided to venture out into the 'real world'.

It's was a relatively nice day. The rays of sunlight cut through what few clouds were present. She sat with her book hiding her face as she kept an eye on the other people at the park. Finally deciding she could let her guard down and that the present company posed no serious threat, she lowered the book to her lap and took a look around.

Children ran about footloose and fancy free. Parents congregated together discussing the mischief their children got into and commiserated over the consequences of the aforementioned mischief. She heard the laughter. She saw the genuine smiles. She absorbed the life going on around her.

A small smile graced her lips. As always, she appeared calm, collected, and dignified. But to anyone who really knew her, her eyes betrayed her. Behind her eyes there was a mixture of nervousness, apprehension, and envy. She was envious of the happiness she saw in the people around her. Not that she would wish unhappiness upon them, but because she couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't allowed that same simple domestic happiness.

Feeling a slight bump on her foot, she looked down to see a red ball had managed to escape the grasp of some unfortunate child. Returning her gaze to the foreground, Alex saw a young girl, no older than five, running toward her to retrieve the cherished play thing. Not far behind the child, was presumably her mother, following to ensure the safety of the child.

Alex's blonde locks fell over her shoulder as she bent over to pick the ball up. She handed the young girl the crimson orb and was rewarded with a toothy smile before the young girl bounced away happily with her recovered toy.

"Thanks. She's always chasing that ball around the house. I figured we'd go out for some fresh air today, but that only gives her more room to get into trouble," the child's mother said as she shook her head with a smile.

"She's angelic. How much trouble could she possibly get in to?" Alex asked returning the smile.

"That's kind of the problem. You'd be surprised by how much she gets away with because she looks so innocent. I'm Cynthia by the way."

"Emily," Alex responded so smoothly she almost believed herself.

"Nice to meet you, Emily," Cynthia said as she shook Alex's hand.

"Likewise."

"Listen, I've got to get back to my little devil, but I'll see you around." And with that Cynthia was off running after the darling child.

The burst that Cynthia's momentum had kicked up wafted across Alex and she caught wind of a pleasant scent. It was familiar, but why? Where did she remember it from? She squinted slightly as if the small action would serve to enhance her memory. Then the truth hit her with the force of a freight train.

It was Olivia's perfume. It was the detective's signature scent.

Grief consumed her as she realized she was beginning to forget. It was, at present, one of her biggest fears. Memory was like a precious tool and forgetting was like a rust that engorged as it corroded the memories away. As a child, her mother told her that people who were lost were alive in spirit as long as they were remembered. She was keeping herself alive by remembering who she was and where she came from. But now...now she was having difficulty remembering details of her former life. Her real life. She was losing bits and pieces of Olivia. And she was losing herself. Hope was fading. Despair was setting in. There was heaviness that settled upon her heart.

Not wanting to call attention to herself by allowing her tears to fall in a public setting, she gathered herself and her belongings and quickly made her way back to her federally provided accommodations.

The very moment she shut the door behind her, she slid down to the floor, hugged her knees and burst into a fresh batch of tears. The remainder of the day was spent in the depths of grief. Her movements were robotic. Her thoughts were monochromatic. She was on autopilot.

She was losing the things that were keeping her going: her memories of her life with Olivia and her hope of returning to that life.

She wondered if things would ever be the same.

She wondered if _she _would ever be the same...


	6. Chapter 6

Have you ever felt so lost that you couldn't see what was right in front of your face? Have you ever felt like such a fool for seeing what wasn't really there? Have you ever felt like you based so much on a lie? And now that you know it was a lie, you don't know exactly what to do or how to handle it?

Sometimes, we let ourselves believe something because we want it to be true. We fool ourselves and put on rose colored glasses so we can delay our pain. We convince ourselves that something is true, even if only to console ourselves for a small amount of time.

Olivia moved within the world without feeling like a part of it. Formerly always astutely aware, she failed to see the irony in her actions. Her precious Alex was more or less sentenced to a life just as the one she was living. These two lives, forced to be completely separate from one another, had somehow taken on the same shape. Maybe it was fate's cruel joke that their lifelines still be so intertwined while so completely detached from one another.

Sitting limply on the couch in the living room she once shared with Alex, she stared into the fireplace with a blank expression and a sullen mindset. Her constant nightly companions, the cordless telephone and a tumbler of scotch, were relegated to the coffee table. Olivia felt that she had deluded herself into thinking that Alex would come back one day. With every heart beat, she felt that maybe too much time had passed. Even if Alex could leave federal protection, Olivia knew the rate at which witnesses returned to their former lives.

But Olivia had wanted to believe that Alex would return to her. It was the hope that Olivia needed to keep going on. She fed the hope just as the hope fed her. But eventually, the day came that she stopped feeding it. It wasn't a conscious decision. She didn't want to feel her hope diminish. She didn't want to give up. It was just that as each day passed, her pessimism grew.

As her mood dampened her desire to feed her hope, the strength of her hope followed suit and unfortunately, eventually dwindled. It was inevitable. It was inevitable that one should run out of sustenance if one were to feed off of a finite supply. In simpler terms, Olivia was running out of fuel. The flames flickered up and begged to be fed bust as her hope needed to be, but Olivia just couldn't seem to find the inspiration.

The hopeful delusions Olivia had immersed herself in began to whither. It was as if she could see the dreams dancing in the heat and smoke of the insatiable flames. The heat blurred the image as the smoke threatened its clarity. She saw bits and pieces: quirks of a sculpted brow, flashes of smiles, intertwining of fingers. She saw strands of moments and memories cherished. She saw images of future plans. She saw the smallest increments of hope deep within the embers of the flame. She saw them all shriveling. A surge of flame was all it would take to swallow them. A loud crackle of the flames set her instincts into fight or flight mode.

Snapping herself out of her stupor, a deep breath and a hard swallow served to calm her pounding pulse. Blinking rapidly and shaking her head as if the act alone would serve to clear her thoughts, she came to a startlingly obvious realization. She couldn't let it all go up in flames. She couldn't let all hope be lost. So, she symbolically rescued the remnants of hope from becoming indiscriminate ash. Even if she was deluding herself, she needed to believe that there were forces bigger than herself at work. That for every push of the universe, there would eventually be a return pull. So that for everything that was taken from her, would someday be returned or she would somehow be repaid. She needed to believe in a reason. A cause and effect. Universal karma.

And so a new delusion was born. That everything happens for a reason. And even though at times in our lives, we allow ourselves to believe, and those times end up making us look foolish, we can still be grateful. And Olivia was. Olivia felt a certain sense of peace about the situation. And even if she had deluded herself…even if she had convinced herself of the truth to delay the pain…she was grateful that the pain was real. It served to prove how immeasurable the pleasure, how vast the beauty, and how everlasting the love.

She was begrudgingly grateful for the pain, but she was infinitely grateful for the hope. If pain was what she ultimately got from her relationship with Alex, she was grateful to have even that. And if hope brought reprieve as Alex brought solace, she felt gratitude for that as well. She began to accept that her hopes might never come to fruition, but she was still grateful to have that hope and whatever consolation it brought.

Allowing herself a small moment of happiness, Olivia smiled and reveled in what loving Alexandra Cabot really meant. And with that thought, the phone found its way to the cradle, a dichotomous detective found her way to her bed, and a chilled heart found a bit of peace.


End file.
